As soon as the two of them sat down, the woman took out her handkerchief to wipe her daughter's face — the girl's bangs were soaked, clinging wetly to her forehead.
The girl also ordered a fruit tart — blueberry flavor.
Since they entered, the two had been chatting, though most of the talking came from the daughter. The little girl looked unhappy, constantly complaining about how her violin teacher was too strict, old-fashioned, and stubborn. She listed several of her friends' names, saying that they had all switched to another music tutor — one who was handsome, witty, and charming — and that she wanted to join them too.
Her mother said nothing, simply smiling as she listened until her daughter finished. Then she calmly listed a series of awards and asked whether this "handsome new tutor" her friends hired had achieved the same level of recognition.
The girl glared at her mother resentfully and said nothing.
Just then, the waiter came over, carrying a cup and a small plate.
> "Here you are — two cannelés, and a complimentary cup of hot cocoa."
Since Turan already had a cup of coffee, the waiter placed the hot cocoa by Jane Hester's hand. She was about to refuse, but Turan had already replied, "Thank you."
Turan pushed the small plate of two cannelés toward Jane, then picked one up with her bare hand and popped it into her mouth.
> "This shop doesn't do takeaway — dine-in only. Try it."
Jane didn't refuse. As before, she carefully cut the small cannelé in half and ate it with her fork.
Most of her attention, however, remained on the mother and daughter at the nearby table. The little girl had started bargaining with her mother, saying she wanted to go with her father to see a musical at the theater at the end of the year. Last year, her father had promised to take her, but in the end, he said he couldn't get tickets — she had been disappointed ever since.
The mother sighed, then made her a promise.
Suddenly, the rich caramelized scent of the cannelé spread across Jane's tongue, pulling her momentarily out of the conversation she'd been half-listening to. She lifted her head.
> "...This flavor is… really special."
Turan smiled.
> "Good, huh? I make a point of stopping by here every time I come through the old town."
Jane nodded. She absentmindedly picked up the cup of hot cocoa beside her and took a sip — then froze.
> "What's wrong?" Turan asked when she noticed Jane's expression. "Too sweet?"
Jane shook her head.
> "The taste… it's different from the one at the base. It's not bitter."
Turan laughed.
> "Of course it's not. Places out here use cheap cocoa substitutes with loads of sugar. It's not like the base — where everything's made from real dark chocolate and cocoa powder."
Jane set down the cannelé and focused on the cocoa. The overwhelming sweetness lingered in her mouth, so strong it made her forget everything else.
Watching Jane — so utterly captivated by the simple taste of sugar — Turan smiled faintly and looked out the window.
After a while, they stood up to leave at the same time as the mother and daughter. Outside the bakery, the woman opened an umbrella and led her daughter into the soft haze of rain.
> "This way," Turan said, pointing in the opposite direction.
> "We're not going back to the car?"
> "No. Our destination's close — five minutes on foot. We won't even need an umbrella."
Following the edge of the overhanging roof, Jane walked silently behind Turan. As they turned toward an underground passage, Jane suddenly spoke.
> "Turan… is it possible for a Mercurial Needle to live an ordinary life?"
Turan didn't look back.
> "How ordinary?"
> "Like the people who live here," Jane answered.
> "In theory, you can — once you retire."
> "And in reality?"
> "That's where things get complicated," Turan replied. "If someone really decides to leave AHgAs, most Mercurial Needles end up being re-hired by the United Government. Even then, they can't avoid dealing with Chelates."
> "And how long does that last before they can finally retire again?"
> "Once you're re-hired, there's no retiring. You work until you die."
> "Can't you refuse the re-hire?"
Turan finally sensed something unusual in Jane's tone. She turned to look at her — Jane's hair was damp from the misting rain.
> "That's… not really an option."
> "I don't understand…"
> "There are people in this world who need the Mercurial Needles," Turan said softly. "They'll chase you to the ends of the earth — whether you hide in a safe zone or the wasteland. They won't give you a choice.
If it ever comes to that, you might as well never leave AHgAs in the first place — or just join the United Government. But those things are far off for you, Jane."
> "...So there's really no other choice?"
Turan smiled faintly.
> "We're like the few remaining blades in this world, Jane," she said quietly. "A blade's destiny is to be forged, sharpened, sent into battle — again and again — until it breaks."
---
Turan led Jane to an empty warehouse. Beyond the entrance was a long, gently sloped staircase made of metal, painted dark red — though much of the paint had chipped away with age.
After passing through several thick, leather-padded doors, Jane began to hear faint gunfire.
At the end of the hall, a flickering neon sign hung on the wall — its white tubes bent into a shape that read "Bang Bang Club."
It was an underground shooting range.
After putting on safety goggles and ear protection, Jane followed Turan into one of the practice lanes. Turan casually picked a firing line, then looked back at her.
> "Used a gun before?"
> "Yeah." Jane nodded.
Turan handed her a pistol.
> "Let's see a few shots."
Jane started with the three-meter target. All five rounds landed within the ninth ring. Then she moved back — five meters, seven, twelve, fifteen, seventeen… twenty-five. Except for a few minor deviations, none of her shots landed outside the ninth ring.
This wasn't her first time handling a gun. Back in Shortbell Alley, she had already gained experience with firearms. Turan seemed to have understood that from the start — her surprise wasn't shock, but genuine delight.
> "Who taught you? That's some solid shooting."
> "...A friend."
> "From Shortbell Alley?"
> "Mm."
> "You were that young, and they still let you take part in shootouts?"
> "...It wasn't a shootout."
Turan didn't press further. She stepped forward, taking the gun, and demonstrated fifteen shots from twenty-five meters away. Every single one scored between 10.3 and 10.9 — Jane blinked, astonished.
Afterward, Turan meticulously corrected several of Jane's small habits — her breathing, stance, sight alignment, and trigger pull. Tiny details, but they could make or break accuracy and endurance.
During their break, as they sat beside each other, Turan told Jane the story of the shooting range's origin. She mentioned that, for the next few weeks, she'd try to return to Tanyi once a week to bring Jane here for training. In the meantime, Jane could continue to practice her aim and draw technique at the base.
> "You've always wondered whether a handgun could really take down a Mercurial Needle," Turan said, setting her pistol down. "My answer is — it depends on the person.
If your opponent were Liz Fletcher, not a chance.
But if it were Shawn… that's different."
> "Why?"
Turan raised three fingers.
> "To answer that, you first have to understand three things —
Bullet Time,
Constraint Time,
and Acheron Moment."
---
(End of Chapter)